


I didn't have a home (until i found you)

by Blueishfood



Series: Miraculous Ladybug Zombie Apocalypse AU [1]
Category: Miraculous Ladybug
Genre: Adult Adrien Agreste | Chat Noir/Marinette Dupain-Cheng | Ladybug, Alternate Universe - Zombie Apocalypse, Angst, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Zombie Apocalypse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-18
Updated: 2020-11-18
Packaged: 2021-03-10 02:47:01
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,386
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27616453
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Blueishfood/pseuds/Blueishfood
Summary: Marinette has been alone in the zombie apocalypse for years. But that was because she had been certain he was dead."The sun is dripping, and the sand is warm as they sink to their knees. She has her hand buried in his hair, his ring is cold against her lower back and she melts into him, sobs wrecking their bodies and the only thing she can think is Adrien, Adrien, Adrien.For the first time in two years, she is not alone."
Relationships: Adrien Agreste | Chat Noir/Marinette Dupain-Cheng | Ladybug
Series: Miraculous Ladybug Zombie Apocalypse AU [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2019124
Comments: 10
Kudos: 68





	I didn't have a home (until i found you)

**Author's Note:**

> Okay so I did something. 
> 
> This might become a series? I'm not sure, but if it does it will include probably small clips from a larger Zombie Au that I might write one day, idk.
> 
> I really appreciate comments if you liked it or something you would have changed. Everything as long as it's constructive! Thanks :))

She can’t remember how they got separated.

She remembers the last night, when they smiled and cried and rested in the truth they had uncovered. She remembers the horror of discovering who was behind it all. She remembers the murder, the assassination, and a black cat on the run. She remembers the akuma spreading, not stopping. She remembers the fires and the living dead in the streets. She remembers the impossibility of finding the first victim.

But she can’t remember the moment when she realized he was gone.

He was so different before the change.

A young man carefree and happy and oh so very innocent. They both were, at that time.

And when they meet it is for not the first time, but it is all the same, for they are both hardened by death and by fear. In that way they are strangers as much as anyone else.

She is leaving a mall she has never been to before, tucking supplies in her backpack and not entirely aware of her surroundings as she lifts a pack of painkillers.

The metal cylinder against the back of her head is cold, but not very surprising.

A small smile plays at her lips against her better judgement because this is it. This is how she escapes. This is the reunion she has been waiting for, and she pauses, awaiting with a shivering eager, to meet the collector of souls once again.

But the bullet never comes. Only a voice.

“Marinette-”, it is gasping, the way he says it, as if the entire world stands before him, and in some ways it does. The gun clatters to the gravel beneath their feet, and his arms wrap around her from behind.

For a split second she thinks he is trying to strangle her, and she rolls her eyes because that is the worst attempt at murder she has ever-

But then she realizes.

That familiar voice… is one she has imagined on countless lonely nights and she turns around slowly because she dares not hope, the disappointment would surely crush her.

Then tears spring to her eyes and lets out a sob willingly for the first time in years because it’s him, it’s him, it’s really, truly him.

He sniffs loudly and she laughs, and he joins her unevenly. The sun is dripping, and the sand is warm as they sink to their knees. She has her hand buried in his hair, his ring is cold against her lower back and she melts into him, sobs wrecking their bodies and the only thing she can think is Adrien, Adrien, Adrien. 

For the first time in two years, she is not alone.

It’s not like she hasn’t seen life in two years of course. There are settlements. But she’s lost… everyone. And she doesn’t trust others. She can’t help but think that something will go wrong and she… At least she can’t stab herself in the back.

But Adrien, soft, warm, beautiful Adrien… him she does trust. She doesn’t know if it’s buried feelings, the distinct notion of home or the remains of something that could have been, but she can’t help it.

It isn’t until they’ve been sitting in silence for some time, hours or maybe minutes, that she understands. She hears dragging footsteps crunching in the sand behind her, and sighs, because she doesn’t want to do this, not now. But then a shot goes off, and she flinches because it wasn’t hers. But when she looks around it’s him, gun lifted, hand around her and something dark flickers in his eyes.

That is when she sees him. The light stubble across his jaw, the pierced ears, the long hair, the furrowed brows.

 _Oh_ , she thinks, because this... this is different.

They were children when they were separated, and now they are adults. Reflections of what they once had been. Ghosts, in a way, and she wonders if this is what it’s like to meet a loved one in hell.

But then he smiles, and she shakes off the idea. His smile could never belong in a place like that.

“They probably heard that”, she whispers, a little afraid to ruin the moment. But he nods and smiles and kisses her cheek, so she thinks maybe it’s not really a moment and maybe it can’t be ruined at all.

His clothes are different too. She sees them when they finally stand, and when she cocks her head to look at him, he either doesn’t notice or he doesn’t care. Too distracted by looking at her to point out her admiring the worn leather jacket around his shoulders, the black cargo pants, and the combat boots.

She likes it.

After a second Marinette wipes her cheeks dry, probably smudging dirt over her face, but he is just watching her, happy and content, so she turns to him and wipes his cheeks as well.

They move her things to his car since hers has just broken down. They are both used to working quickly, under pressure, but it all seems a little imaginary and floating when they do it together, so they are done before they notice.

He drives off when they see the first dead’s round a corner, and she laughs as the motor roars under her feet, turning around to wave them goodbye. He laughs with her.

They can’t seem to stop touching each other. They have been together for a few hours, but she finds herself checking with even intervals.

A finger gliding over his knuckles as he rests his hand on the gear stick, a hand on her knee, her fingertips placing a strand of hair behind his ear. Just checking, just to make sure. Because waking up from a dream like this would crush her.

“Are you sure you’re real?” she asks, when the wind is ruffling her hair pleasantly, and she smiles towards the sun. He chuckles beside her, and she sees his eyes flicker to her once or twice before he answers.

“I really hope you are”, he says, answering a different question entirely, and she stretches, grins, her hands playing in the wind above her. Watching them feels almost like a memory.

He has a base a few hours away, in the middle of the desert where he can see someone coming from miles away. Though it’s not the tactic she would have chosen, preferring to stay hidden and constantly on the move… Well she can admit it’s smart, probably smarter than her idea of safe, and he gets a little cocky, so she punches his arm as he smirks.

It’s an old gas station, still somehow smelling like greasy burgers and Adrien opens the door with a little fanfare to make her laugh. He tells her there’s a diesel generator, and it’s not like he’s running out of that so... There’s also a homemade shower and hot water for the first time in _so_ long, she almost cries again.

When she’s done, he has made soup. They eat in silence, looking at each other sometimes, and smiling, and Marinette blushes because she suddenly remembers how impossible she was around him when they were younger.

Then she’s sleepy and she remembers the sleeping bag in the car. With a heavy sigh, she heads to the entrance, but then Adrien is there, hands on her shoulders, telling her she can sleep in his bed and she is too tired to protest. Too exhausted to realize what he is offering.

She doesn’t think about it until he is walking towards the cold stone floor on the other side of the room while she is nestled in his pillows and blankets, and she rolls her eyes, grabs his arm and yanks him into the bed with her.

“Self-sacrificing kitty”, she murmurs affectionately, and falls asleep as he shrugs under the blankets, soft puffs of breath to the crook of his neck, his skin warm against her nose.

They don’t talk about everything. Not about the fires, the death, the virus. They don’t talk about his father or of what they discovered before it all happened. They don’t talk about the kiss. They will, one day, but not right now. Simply because there, as she lies in the warmth of his arms, she feels at home.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [As The World Caves In](https://archiveofourown.org/works/27626471) by [GG_Ladybug](https://archiveofourown.org/users/GG_Ladybug/pseuds/GG_Ladybug)




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